


Garlic Keeps off Envy and Other Things

by psithurism



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Alternate Universe - Howl's Moving Castle Fusion, De-Serumed Steve Rogers, M/M, Magic, Steve is Sophie, This is weird, Vignette, Wizard Tony, bordering on crack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-22
Updated: 2018-04-22
Packaged: 2019-04-26 07:42:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14397432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/psithurism/pseuds/psithurism
Summary: In which Steve strikes a bargain with JARVIS and lives with Wizard Tony and his apprentice Peter in the floating castle.





	Garlic Keeps off Envy and Other Things

**Author's Note:**

> In anticipation of Infinity War, have a fic that's totally unrelated to the movie! :D
> 
> This is loosely based on Howl's Moving Castle by Diana Wynne Jones, which I love. Title is taken from Sophie's notes in Chapter 9, which starts with "Does garlic keep off envy?" It has nothing to do with the fic though.

“I’m still waiting for that hint, JARVIS,” Steve said.

“I have already given it to you, Mr. Rogers,” JARVIS replied.

“You did? Can you tell it to me again? I didn’t catch it.”

A pause. “It’s not much of a hint if I tell you that it’s a hint, is it?”

Steve rolled his eyes. JARVIS might not have a face and body, but he still knew cheek when he heard one.

 

+

 

It had been days since Steve started living in Tony’s floating castle (“Helicarrier,” corrected Tony, trimming his goatee) and he had learned some few things about its owner.

For one, Tony was under a curse. According to JARVIS – or at least that was how Steve inferred what JARVIS had provided so far – the glowing blue circle on Tony’s chest was the crux of the curse, but Steve hadn’t figured out whether he should remove the glow or something else entirely. It was difficult to solve the problem when the curse forbade JARVIS and Tony from telling what it really was outright.

For another, despite the rumors and reputation about Tony, he wasn’t really a philanderer. It was true that he flirted like he breathed, but, to Steve’s eternal surprise, that was the extent of his lady-killer lifestyle. It boggled him so much that Peter felt compelled to explain the cause of Tony’s blackened reputation.

“Mr. Stark spread the rumors himself,” Peter had said. “That way, people wouldn’t think to get close to him too much. He likes his privacy.”

“But he seduces women and then eats their hearts,” Steve had stammered, feeling betrayed.

“That was my fault.” Peter had looked sheepish. “It was an accident. I was meant to say Mr. Stark breaks their hearts but I was really hungry at the time. It was effective though.”

So there was a _slight_ recalibration of Steve’s opinion on the Wizard Tony, but that didn’t mean the guy was virtuous and the embodiment of propriety. He still acted like an obnoxious spoiled brat, selfish and egotistical. Never mind that he took in Peter when the kid had no place to come home to.

Or that he hadn’t kicked Steve out yet.

“I am struck with the greatest inspiration and I must hurry to my workshop,” Tony declared that night, bursting through the door with an energy reserved for late-night spell-working and other magic-related activities that Steve had neither the skill nor knowledge to contribute to. “Don’t bother waiting for me.”

He strode across the room and into the hall that led to the workshop, leaving Steve and Peter to watch, dinner halfway through their mouths.

“Mr. Chester dropped by this morning to ask about the potion, Mr. Stark!” Peter called out.

“Screw the potion,” Tony’s voice echoed, “the old man needs an ergonomic chair!”

“‘Ergonomic’?” Steve repeated.

Peter shrugged, and swallowed his food.

 

+

 

Not that Steve thought himself too important, but he hoped that the army was still looking for him and not wrote him off as dead. It was fortunate for everybody that there was a lull in the kingdom’s political affairs and that there was no need for the king to send troops to fight. But still. He yearned to go back. Every now and then he itched to yell at JARVIS to spill everything about the curse so that in return JARVIS could remove the spell cast to him by the Wizard of the Waste.

And then one morning, Steve coughed like a dying dog.

It had been years since Steve got sick. Even during the war he never caught whatever illnesses present in the places they’d been stationed. He was thankful for being lucky in that regard; his troops needed him during those desperate times and to be brought down by a disease would destroy morale.

“Here.” Tony shoved something on Steve’s hand, and Steve glanced down to find a bottle of bright-colored pills. “One capsule after breakfast and supper for five days. That will treat your coughing, I think.”

Steve inspected the bottle. “This is not one of your magic potions.”

Tony barked out a laugh. “Dear god, no. Just take it. It’s on the house.”

Steve squinted at him. “You say strange phrases even though we speak the same language,” he observed, which made Tony smile.

It was an odd smile, that. Steve shifted on his seat.

“Don’t forget to drink lots of water,” Tony said. “And don’t overexert yourself! Don’t think that I don’t know what you’ve been doing behind my back. There’s an order to my brand of chaos that nobody will ever get, so leave my workshop alone. JARVIS will monitor your health, by the way, you stubborn man.”

Later, when Steve was lying on his bed, trying to sleep, body racking with coughs, he thought of Tony, and his peculiar speech, and the way he smiled at him that morning, a quirk of the lips, gaze at a fixed point beyond Steve, as if seeing something that wasn’t there.

 

+

 

Sometimes – and he would never admit this to anyone, most especially to Tony – Steve marvelled at the possibilities Tony spun from his hands. He had never seen anything like Tony’s floating castle ( _“Helicarrier,”_ insisted Tony, glaring at him), which looked old and plain from the outside but from the inside seemed like a different world altogether.

Steve always had the impression that magic was colorful, radiant and vivid like those potions Peter oftentimes sold to people. But Tony’s was a gradation of silver, with the glowing blue circle on his chest at the center of it all. Steve had never seen so much silver at one place in his entire life.

Once, during the early stages of their acquaintanceship, Tony took one look at Steve, who had been gaping at the workshop interior, and said, “Welcome to the future. Awesome, isn’t it?”

He had been too mesmerized to reply.

Tony was unlike other sorcerers Steve had heard of and met. Magic, as Steve understood, was intangible, mysterious; whereas Tony relied on machines too often. There was the occasional spellcasting Steve was familiar with, but Tony had more inclination towards the mechanical.

Which was atypical, when he thought about it.

But Tony’s machines were beautiful yet functional. And perhaps that was what Tony’s magic was all about: more than potions, more than spells – things that served a purpose in everyday life, things that made life easier for everybody. Tony’s magic was for everyone, meant to be shared.

Maybe Tony’s not that selfish after all.

Not that Steve would ever tell that to him.

 

+

 

“Okay,” Tony began, sauntering towards the kitchen, “Chester’s ergonomic chair is done. You can tell him to pick it up, Peter. Or you can deliver it, whatever. If he wants, I can also make him a lazyboy recliner, but he might not want to get up ever again. Optical camouflage’s next on the list, I swear to god, but I’ve been neglecting maintenance of my baby for a couple of days now, decisions, decisions. Say, kid, wanna try your hand at active camouflage nanotech? You said that you’re ready; I want to see.”

Steve was scrambling eggs for late breakfast, and to his left, Peter’s voice piped up, high and excited: “Oh my gosh, Mr. Stark, yes! I’ve studied your notes and I’m so ready!”

Curious about the topic of conversation, Steve glanced at Tony, and dropped his bowl.

Popular opinion stated that the Wizard Stark was a powerful _and a handsome_ sorcerer, and Steve was inclined to agree, from an objective point of view. But at the same time people hadn’t lived with Tony for a length of time, and Tony’s dramatics and dreadful personality eclipsed the superficial qualities that made Tony arguably famous among people.

Except now, the image in front of Steve was challenging his beliefs.

Tony’s usual outfits included tunics and loose slacks, dressing better whenever he went out. His sense of fashion wasn’t remarkable, all things considering, and Steve wouldn’t look twice at him, unlike the girls he’d talked to during his early reconnaissance about the man.

But now, wearing a black undershirt without sleeves, showing off more skin than normal, Tony seemed like a different man. The undershirt was also tight-fitting, outlining the (nice) shape of his body and highlighting his (fine) collarbone. He’s more muscular than Steve expected, especially those arms. His trousers were not as tight, but they clung enough to accent a set of impressive legs.

Tony and Peter startled at the bowl shattering, while Steve remained staring at Tony.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Tony said, approaching Steve, who still remained staring. “Steve, are you okay? Are you hurt? What just happened?”

He waved a hand, muttered a few words, and the bowl came back in one piece.

“I,” Steve said, eloquent as a fish.

Tony examined him for cuts, eyebrows dipped low, and Steve felt self-conscious under the scrutiny.

“Well,” Tony announced, leaning back, “it seems that you’re fine. Be more careful next time, all right?”

“Uh,” Steve said, still articulate.

“Great. Come, Peter, let’s put your knowledge of active camouflage nanotechnology to the test. Maybe we can throw a little bit of thermodynamics and quantum physics in the quiz too.”

Once Tony and Peter disappeared into the workshop, Steve stared at the spot where Tony was previously standing. Then, his gaze slid to the bowl, fixed and good as new.

Steve blinked.

“ _Oh._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> There was supposed to be more, actually. I had a bunch of ideas for it, like Doom being the Witch of the Waste, and Tony still being Iron Man, and the trio going to New York (in the book, Howl, Sophie, and Michael went to Wales), etc. etc., but right now this is all I can write. I might write more in the future, but as of now, this is a standalone fic.


End file.
